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I held it together, clenching my teeth when she asked me how I was doing. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Do you need me to come over?”
I shook my head but couldn’t speak, then had to force myself to say, “You can’t come running every time there’s a storm. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I can hear it in your voice. Just let me come over. We can?—”
“No!” I shouted, then winced. “I mean, no.” I said it softer, trying to get my point across. “I know you love me and want to be there for me. But I have to be able to cope with this stuff on my own or I’ll never survive the real world.”
“But, sweetie, you don’t have tosurviveanything. I want you to live and be happy. And it’s okay to be afraid and need help. That doesn’t make you weak or frail. It makes you open to receiving good things.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded and fought off an unexpected wave of tears.
She was probably right, although I still feel like she doesn’t get it.
I’m open to help and receiving.
I just don’t always want it to be from my parents!
I’m an adult now. I want to be able to cope with this shit without them.
“Well, is your roommate there at least? Maybe you can watch a movie with her. Distract yourself with candy, popcorn, and a little romantic flick or something.” Mom forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the tone.
I stared across the room at Jolie’s empty bed. She texted me on Sunday, letting me know she was staying with her boyfriend for a few days. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. It must be her mystery tutor. I mean, maybe. She was off all week, and I don’t really know what’s been going on with her. Although, I did hear whispers on campus today about something happening at the school paper over the weekend. I don’t know if Jolie was involved or not, but I’m desperate to ask her.
I was in the middle of that thought when my window lit with another warning.
Shit, shit, shit.
Bracing myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my head against the wall as thunder exploded right on top of me. Even with two floors above me, I could still feel it right through my core.
“Oof. That was a loud one. You still okay?” Mom almost sounded hopeful, like I’d change my mind and start begging her to come get me.
Clenching my teeth, I gritted out, “Yes, of course I am. I’m not gonna let some storm beat me.”
Mom went quiet for a second, then whispered, “Nothing ever beats you, baby girl. You’ve always been my strongest.”
Then why do I feel so weak?
I nearly blubbered out that truth but managed to hold it in as she said her goodbyes.
“Promise you’ll call if you need me.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“I’m always here for you.”
“I know. Now let me get back to watching my movie.”
Mom laughed, and I hung up the phone, hugging it to my chest. I couldn’t fight my tears. They spilled out of me, and I sniffed my way through Marty McFly’s introduction to the past.
I watched him freak out, get shot at by a terrified farmer, and now he’s waking up in a strange bed and being called Calvin Klein by a high school girl who is actually his mother.
This part always makes me smile. Well, it usually does.
Another flash of lightning turns my stomach to mulch. I breathe, the way my therapist taught me, and manage not to flinch when the next bang of thunder rattles the windows. Surely it’s gonna move along soon, right?
I let out a breath, gripping my mouth and actually jumping with a scream when there’s a rapid banging on my door.